


When Remus Started Drinking

by youngscrappynhungry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngscrappynhungry/pseuds/youngscrappynhungry
Summary: Remus started drinking the day he found out Sirius betrayed the Potters.





	When Remus Started Drinking

Remus was in the country when he heard the news. James, Lily, Peter... gone. Harry... orphaned. Sirius... Sirius... He came home as soon as he could—or at least, to the place he once called “home.”

It didn’t quite feel like home anymore. Everything in the flat looked like a lie—that’s the couch Sirius would sit on. That’s the fridge Sirius would eat from. That’s the bed Sirius would kiss me in. Everywhere he looked was another lie.

That first night, he collapsed on the floor. He wanted to cry or scream, but couldn’t find the strength to do either. Instead he just tried to think of nothing, and wound up thinking of everything. Each speck of dust and piece of lint on the ground screamed  _Sirius!_

How long had Sirius been lying to him? How long had he been working for You Know Who? And, more importantly,  _why?_ How could he?

Sirius had never been anything but a good friend. He didn’t abandon Remus when he found out he was a werewolf. He joined the Order even when it was dangerous. He risked his own life, on multiple occasions, to save his friends’.

Of course, there was a time when Sirius risked someone else’s life, just because he thought it’d be funny. As a general rule, Remus preferred not to think about that night with Snape. But he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Sirius, they’d said, was laughing when they found him.

—

Remus fell asleep like that, dreaming the same nightmare he was living.

The next morning, he woke up to knocks at the door. Remus squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying to ignore the knocks.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement!” a stern voice came through the door.

Remus didn’t move immediately. He didn’t really care what happened to him at this point. They couldn’t throw him in Azkaban for not opening a door.  _And if they did, so what?_ Instead, he covered his ears with his hands and hoped they would go away.

More knocks. Well, if it’ll make the knocking stop, he might as well.

Remus dragged himself off the floor, his bones aching. He was used to sleeping on the ground, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

He opened the door and there were two wizards standing there, in the customary navy blue robes. One of them had a bushy mustache.

“Are you Remus Lupin?” the clean-shaven officer asked him.

“Yes.”

“We’re from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he repeated.

“Yes, I know,” Remus said curtly. Then, trying to sound less impolite, added, “Won’t you come in?” Maybe he  _did_ care if he was sent to Azkaban, after all.

The officers stepped into the flat.

“I haven’t got much to offer you—” Remus began.

“That’s quite alright,” the first officer cut him off. “We are here strictly on business.”

The two officers sat down on their couch—  _my couch,_ Remus corrected himself—stiff-backed and all business.

“We need to ask you a few questions about Sirius Black,” the mustached man said.

Remus’s heart sank and a tickle grew in his throat. He coughed to clear it.

“Yes?” he said calmly, as he lowered himself into the chair facing  _his_ couch. He rested his hands on his knees, trying to act casual and failing miserably.

“Are you aware of what happened on the night of November 1st, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus, suddenly unable to speak, nodded his head solemnly.

The officers stayed for about an hour. They asked Remus all kinds of questions; how long had he known Sirius (eleven years), did he know he was working for You Know Who (no), what was the nature of their relationship (complicated).

When they seemed to have everything they needed, they left Remus alone in his flat.

And that’s when Remus started drinking.

—

He went to the only place he knew: the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Drinking at a bar is sad, but drinking alone makes you an alcoholic. Plus, Remus had spent the last few weeks isolated from most human contact; he wanted to be around people, even if he didn’t want to talk to them.

He sat at the bar, looking morose and feeling like a busted dungbomb. But he was the only one not celebrating. Even the bartender couldn’t keep from smiling.

“What’ll it be, then?” he asked Remus, completely missing his sunken face (or not caring). “We’ve a special going on, s’called the Harry Potter, it’s a shot of—”

Remus cut him off as quickly as he could. “Just your strongest drink, please, and no specials.” He sounded a lot angrier than he meant. The bartender clearly didn’t mind; his smile never faded as he poured Remus a large glass of Firewhiskey and slid it down the bar.

Remus was on his third glass when a rowdy crowd of men in their thirties, Remus guessed, came barging into the bar. He didn’t recognize any of them because they must have graduated Hogwarts long before he even started. It looked like they had already been drinking for quite a while before stumbling into the Three Broomsticks.

“Hey, hey boys—drinks are on me!” one of them shouted. The rest whooped and hollered. “Long live the Boy Who Lived!”

“Long live the Boy Who Lived!” his friends repeated. “Long live the Boy Who Lived!” They wandered through the bar chanting, enticing the rest of the patrons to join in.

One of them came up to Remus and put his hand around his shoulders. “Long live the Boy Who Lived!” he shouted in Remus’s ear.

Remus winced in pain, but held up his glass unenthusiastically.

“What’s the matter, you a Death Eater or somethin’?” he asked, still too loud.

Remus shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Well then what’s got your Nargles in a twist? Didn’t you hear the good news?”

Remus downed his drink, left a few Galleons on the counter, and Apparated back home.

And that’s when Remus started going to Muggle bars.

—

“Hey, sweetie.”

Remus didn’t look up from his drink; he just lifted his eyebrows in response to the young girl who sat next to him at the bar.

“What’s the matter?” she asked gently, leaning closer. She smelt like hairspray and raspberry vodka.

Remus swirled the ice around in his glass.

“Heartbreak?” She stroked his forearm.

He shrugged.

“What happened to her, sweetie?” she crooned, not taking her eyes or hand off Remus.

Remus put his glass down and looked at her for the first time. She had a lot of makeup on, but not in a bad way. He supposed she must be pretty, but he wasn’t quite capable of judging that right now.

Remus stared at her straight in the eye and said flatly, “Sent to prison.”

The girl’s eyes grew wide in shock, then fascination. She leaned closer and whispered, “For what?”

“Murder.”

She jumped back, but tightened her grip on Remus’s arm.

Remus continued. “Killed my two best friends, one of their wives, and twelve witnesses.”

The girl, uneasy, let go of Remus’s arm and backed away from him slowly. She looked quickly behind her, as if she heard someone calling her name. She turned around and ran off, without saying a word to Remus.

Remus finished his drink.

And that’s when Remus started going to gay bars.

—

His first night, he walked in a little nervous, his hands in his pockets and trying to blend into the wallpaper.

He sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and another, and another. When the bartender finally cut him off, he nodded, defeated, and went to the bathroom to Apparate home.

He did that every night for a few weeks, then every other night. He started paying more attention to his surroundings. There were the regulars, like him, and the semi-regulars (the ones who only came on the weekends). There were college girls and bachelorettes just looking to dance without men groping them. And there were newbies, entering the bar just as scared and nervous as he was the first time.

Men would occasionally hit on him, but Remus always ignored them. He liked being left alone, and most people figured that out pretty quick.

About a year after Everything, he was in his usual spot, sipping his usual drink. He was down to only a few drinks a week now, something he was quite proud of, all things considered.

A man Remus hadn’t seen before sat near him at the bar. He caught Remus’s attention because he wasn’t a normal newbie. He was confident and looked like he belonged here. He had longish blonde hair and a short, stubbly beard. Remus couldn’t help but stare at him.

The man ordered a drink, then turned away from the bar to watch the dance floor. Remus followed his gaze but just saw the same people dancing to the same boring Muggle songs.

Remus looked back at the blonde man, who noticed. He returned Remus’s stare and lifted an eyebrow...something Sirius used to do. Remus’s insides clenched and squirmed.

Remus could feel himself smiling for the first time in a long time. Embarrassed, he grabbed his drink and tried to hide his smile with the glass.

The blonde man moved into the seat right next to Remus, but stayed facing the dance floor.

“Hey,” he said to Remus.

“Hey,” Remus responded. It was probably one of the only things he’d ever said to someone here, other than the bartender.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Remus looked down at his half-full glass, his third (and anticipated last) drink of the night. “Sure.”

Blondie nodded to the bartender and then nodded toward Remus. He was very suave about it; Remus had been coming here for the better part of a year and still couldn’t have pulled that off.

“What’s your name?”

“Ben,” Blondie said. “Yours?”

“Remus.”

Ben laughed a little. “Where’d you come up with that one?”

Remus was confused. “My parents gave it to me.”

“Wait, that’s your real name?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Is Ben yours?” Remus said it a little cruelly. He was losing his patience.

“‘Course it isn’t.”

“Oh.” Remus felt dumb. Did everyone use fake names? Why hadn’t he thought of that?

“Ben” didn’t seem to mind. “Do you live close to here?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Then why d’you come all the time?”

“How do you know I come all the time?”

“Everyone knows.” Ben took a sip of his drink, rather seductively.

Remus shrugged. He didn’t really know what to say to that.

They finished their drinks in silence. Remus realized it should have felt awkward, but it didn’t. Maybe that was just the alcohol, though.

Finally, Ben placed his empty glass on the counter. He leaned close to Remus and whispered in his ear, “Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

Remus knew it was a bad idea. Apparently he had a reputation. Was this some kind of bet, or game? The first one to crack the weirdo would get a prize?

“Where did you have in mind?” he responded. He couldn’t help it... something about Ben made him feel good again. And if it was a sham, who cares? Hadn’t his whole life been a sham anyway?

—

His relationship with “Ben” didn’t last long, and Remus never did learn his real name. He sometimes wondered if he had been a famous Muggle TV star, or maybe a politician. Maybe he’d had to use a fake name to avoid being recognized and outed. In many ways, Remus was lucky to already be a misfit. There wasn’t a lot more he could do to be ostracized.

“What’s your deal?” Ben asked one morning while he was getting dressed.

“What do you mean?”

“Who hurt you? What happened?” Ben was annoyed, or maybe angry. He pulled his shirt over his head violently.

Remus shook his head, confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your last boyfriend—or wife, or something. Who was it?”

When Remus didn’t respond, Ben continued. “Whoever it was really fucked you up.” He was pacing through the room now, picking up his things.

“I know,” Remus finally admitted. Ben stopped pacing.

“So what happened?”

“He died.” It didn’t seem like a lie. And maybe it wasn’t. He was gone, wasn’t he? The Sirius that Remus had been in love with didn’t even exist anymore.

“Oh shit,” Ben said in a low voice, almost under his breath. He sat on the bed next to Remus, setting his things next to him.

Remus shrugged. “It was over a year ago now. I’m over it,” he lied.

Ben whistled. “Nah, man, I don’t think you are.”

Remus looked him in the eye.  _So?_ he wanted to say.  _Are you gonna leave?_

It seemed like Ben had read his mind. “Look,” he said calmly, “I just don’t think this is gonna work.”

Remus nodded his head. There wasn’t really anything to say after that.

Ben scooped up his pile of stuff, and left.

And that’s when Remus started drinking alone.


End file.
